My Work Tarting Up Other Places

Monday, May 30, 2011

After hovering around just below 300 fans for an annoyingly long time--297, 298, 299....back down to 293, and so on--the In Bed With Married Women Facebook page finally hit 300. By the time you read this there may well be a mass exodus, but at this very second, there are 300 fans. So I'll be quick.

Now, as you know from reading the comments on the blog, In Bed readers are funny and smart and cool, but over at Facebook, well, it's a different story. Some of the people, like you, are cool and all, but there's a steady stream of freaky weirdos who stop by thinking it's a hook-up spot for picking up married chicks. They put up a picture of big boobs (or worse, a creepy-ass mug shot-looking picture of themselves they obviously took in their bathrooms) and wait for the offers from hot chicks to start rolling in. After awhile, they get arrested go away when their foolproof pickup plans don't work out. I'm not proud of it, but the Facebook page is kind of like the bad side of town--even I reach for my car door locks when I'm over there.

But upon seeing my 300th fan, I started thinking: Why must I stubbornly cling to the notion that I want fans who "get" my whole sex-is-funny-and-boring-and-fascinating (or whatever the hell it is I do) thing? Clearly there's a sizable contingent of people who want me to shut the hell up and just start hooking them up with sexy married ladies. So fuck it, maybe I just should. I'm an adaptable. I can cope if someone moves my damn cheese. (note: not actually true) Thus, today I say to you:

Yeah, I know it looks like just liked random pages that sounded sexy, but I am pretty sure he picked In Bed With Married Women for the sociological observations, dry wit and such. (Although, just in case, don't tell him about Charlie Sexton or sextuplets! Those sound hot, too!)

According to Facebook, Maha has 14 friends and filled out his "About Me" statement thusly:

VERY ...VERY...INTERESTING IN SEX......... I LOVE SEX!I am married........like to have more sex..... Sexy girls....sexy ladies....you are welcome!!!!!!!!!!!!!

So....sexy ladies, any takers? Maha can be quite charming. According to today's Facebook stalking research, just the other day, he wrote "what a sexy boobs!" on a lucky young woman's photo. That could be you!

And, like Maha says, "If you are very interesting in sex, you are welcome."

(An aside: Maha's exclusive interest in married women reminds me of a recent misguided Googler to In Bed With Married Women who searched for: "free pictures of married womens vaginas." Why did this person care so much that they were married women's vaginas? Are they notably different? Would he really notice if some single chick's vagina was slipped in the mix? And if he's not fricking paying, what sort of guarantee does he deserve of the marital status of any vagina? And finally, does he really have so little imagination that he can't just look at any old free pictures of women's vaginas--although the word 'women's' seems to be superfluous in this case as, in general, it is women who possess vaginas and not, say, cans of green beans--and just pretend that they are married women's vaginas? But I digress...)

I laughed out loud and then it made me sad. Not that the whole 'women's empowerment through access to female condom' thing isn't riddled with its own problems, but really, that we can be so disgusted by the one barrier method that doesn't rely on anyone else to use it, and actively discourage people from even trying? I'm writing from South Africa, highest rate of HIV infection in the world, lots of issues with women even being able to talk to men about sex, or even have control over where, when & how. There's some evidence that some women manage to use it in a way that hides it from their partners so they don't even have to get into this discussion...

Point taken, Emmanence. I'm not sure how many South African women consult In Bed With Married Women when making Important Sexual Decisions, but just in case: ATTENTION women of South Africa (and elsewhere)!: Although female condoms, like nearly all forms of contraception (and sex itself, for that matter), are both awkward and humorous, if some dude is trying get on you and you're not in the mood to get pregnant or infected with HIV, by all means, USE A FEMALE CONDOM. Use two or three of them, if you want. Put 'em in all your orifices. Better safe than sorry, I say. Meanwhile, here in the States, I will be contemplating the physics of hiding an external rubbery tube from my partner.

DAMN, those furries are weird! Right. Because, no one EVER has sex in a costume at a Star Trek convention, or after a Halloween party. You're a prude!

Although I took great pains in the post to note that people can do whatever they want, it's all good, etc... after careful consideration, I have decided that I am indeed a furry prude. If some giant bobble-headed googly-eyed Chipmunk came up to me and said (chirped?) "Hey, suck the matted fur on my erect Chipmunk penis. C'mon, honey, don't be such a prude," I would have to decline. Even if, he (or she) promised to lift his (or her) specially built-in groinal flap to reveal the glories beneath. I feel somewhat ashamed of this prudery, but there it is. (Attention Google: please add "furry prude" to "Jill Hamilton" searches to go with my name's current designation as "anal bleaching expert.")

It wasn't all hatin' around here this week. There was an uptick in people clicking on the blog's pay-per-click Google ads (sending fives of dollars my way--sweet!), someone used the Amazon search box and actually bought something, and as usual, you came through with a host of witty, smart, thought-provoking comments. ValVan, for instance, urged his fellow men to consider "the long game" with regards to the back-rub-as-stealth-route-to-sex technique. Men, heed his words, as they hold great wisdom.

And Anonymous' comment on "That Doesn't Turn Me On" by The Housewife Blogger made me realize how damn nitpicky we women are when it comes to sex. Like Seinfeld and the man hands, we can get turned off by anything from a surprise butt thwacking with a penis to "vacuum-like head" to a mid-sex "Hoo Boy" exclamation. Wrote Anonymous:

The Mars/Venus problem here is that most men don't need to be "turned on." They turn on automatically. A lot of women get frustrated when guys equate sex and food, but to us, they really are quite similar. Horniness comes on naturally, like hunger. And also like hunger, it's an urgent need that we don't like putting off until later. We don't need to be inspired into it. We don't need you to talk dirty about steaks and pasta, or dress up a hamburger in a sexy bun, or sprinkle cake crumbs around the kitchen in an appetizing pattern. When our stomachs rumble, we want to eat. When our dicks get hard, we want to fool around.

Besides the delightful image of dirty talk about steaks and pasta (Oh, you just wait, I am going to roll you around my fork. Slowly. Until you think you can't take it anymore. Then, with increasing urgency, I'm going to...) Uh...sorry, I, uh, was writing a sentence or something? Oh yeah, this: This brings up a question: Men, at the very real risk of sounding like a Playboy, circa 1978, what are your turn-offs anyway? Is there nothing so heinous it dampers your ardor, or is this just a dumb stereotype? I honestly don't know. I've asked one dude so far, who told me about having sex with a goth chick who suddenly bit his neck, drawing blood. But I kind of think he wasn't turned off so much as bragging about it.

And finally I'll leave with this quote by, well, I'm just going to let you look that one up yourself.

“Men wake up aroused in the morning. We can't help it. We just wake up and we want you. And the women are thinking, 'How can he want me the way I look in the morning?' It's because we can't see you. We have no blood anywhere near our optic nerve.”

Okay, go on now. Oh, and I do apologize for the image that will pop into your head once you look up who said it.

The Husband and I have been together for the better part of a decade. Yet, sometimes, he seems to revert back to teenager mode, and do stupid things. I want to ask him what he's thinking when he does some of these things. For instance...

My tits are not balls of dough. There should be no hard kneading involved; especially after I ovulate because they are the most sensitive things in the world after that. The jiggle that happens when I walk down the stairs is enough to hurt them, so please, no kneading.

Saying stupid things like, "You kind of need to trim things up a bit". Shut. Up. There needs to be 4-6 weeks in between waxing appointments, and I can't trim it super short or else the wax can't hold on to the hair as well. Deal with it, in a few days, it will be smooth again.

Pretending like you're giving me a back rub, then migrating to either my boobs or cooter. Do it right! When I say my shoulders are tight, I don't mean my boobs. When I say my lower back hurts, that doesn't mean my cooter. If you give me a proper back rub, then I'll consider your advances.

When you try to have sex with me when I'm sick. I know I stay sick forever when I get a cold, but when my nose is stuffy, I don't want to be stuffed. That's just how it is.

I think I'll turn this into a Powerpoint presentation for The Husband.

BTW, after I ran the bad sex moves contest, several people asked me what bad sex move I'd experienced. Okay, here goes: I once (briefly!) dated a guy who exclaimed "Hoo Boy!" during sex.

Yes, I know. One should be free and uninhibited during sex and all that. But if lack of inhibitions leads to "Hoo Boy"-yelling, it's time for self-protective inhibitions to kick in.

But that's just according to me. As I learned after being reprimanded by an angry furry, one person's Sexy Tiger Lover is another's weirdo-in-a-sweaty-ass-tiger-costume-with-alarmingly-situated-groinal-flaps.

Who knows, maybe the person who's with Mr. Hoo Boy today is at her desk this very second, reliving the feverish night before when her man shouted "Hoo Boy!" during the throes, and shivering with a secret thrill of delight. "Hoo...boy," she whispers to herself, dreamily twisting a loose strand of hair around her finger.

So, gentle reader, I wish for you sweet dreams of whatever it is that does it for you, whether it be fevered kisses in the night, furry tiger penises or, hell, reruns of What's Happening!! Though maybe not a combination of all three. Unless it's that one where Rerun does that cool dance.

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And it's a $15 value, my friend. Because nothing's too good for you and your tender naughty bits, gentle reader. That's right, no Polysorbate 80 on your wiener.

To win, you need merely, uh, wait.... let me think of some task for you. Okay, to enter, describe a sex move someone else performed on/to/with you which they thought was super-hot, but was in actually not hot--possibly even repellent. (Bonus points for understanding the previous sentence!)

Contest closes by noon tomorrow, so start dredging up those unpleasant memories. Winner will be chosen by secret voodoo ceremony, or hormonal rage, or perhaps a random drawing. We'll have to see how I'm feeling (see also: "hormonal rage.") Okay, then. Go on, now.

(P.S. Alternately, you can 'win' the contest, in a sense, by pulling out your credit card and just buying the damn thing. Hooray for you! You 'win'!)

About Me

I write In Bed With Married Women, a blog about sex in all its boring, strange, funny, smokin' hot glory. My work has also appeared in Salon, AlterNet, Cosmopolitan, Rolling Stone, Entertainment Weekly, Jezebel, Mad, Games and the Los Angeles Times. I look grumpy in all pictures whether grumpy or just kinda neutral.